Zlatko was not a politician. He didn't care for the rhetoric of borders or the shouting matches that defined his brother Vojislav’s career in Belgrade. Zlatko was Zagreb born and bred. He was a man of simple pleasures: his family, his city, and his club. He had been a steward and a devoted member of the BBB for years, known for his imposing stature but, more importantly, for his calming presence. If a fight broke out, Zlatko was usually the one stepping in to break it up, not start it.
The young man hesitated. He looked at Zlatko’s jersey—the signature blue jersey he had worn for decades. He looked at the calmness in the giant’s eyes. The hatred in the young man’s face didn't vanish, but it lost its target. zlatko šešelj